


Things We Said

by abadeerly



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, one shots, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abadeerly/pseuds/abadeerly
Summary: A series of semi related one shots based on 'Things you said...' prompts.





	1. That I Wish You Hadn't

**Author's Note:**

> listen, i know i have like ten other things to do but ive had writers block and if i can manage to write at least 1k for each of these that could be 22/23k words.   
> be patient with me, please?

 

Bonnibel’s lab was ungodly messy. She had been working on an experiment for a good week now and was already so close to completing her thesis; so of course there were empty take-out boxes strewn across the different surfaces of the room, and it was only natural for the piles of paperwork to have gotten a little out of hand.

It wasn’t a problem until Marceline walked in, all ripped jeans and sleeveless shirt. Her gangly body looked almost at home with the awkward and messy surroundings of Bonnibel’s lab.

“Who let you in here?” Bonnibel half mumbled half yawned as she began to busy herself with gathering up a few stray pieces of paper. Having company over meant that she’d at least have to make it look like she cared about her work environment, even if it would just get worse when Marceline left. There was a sticky note reminding herself to buy a new textbook stuck to her drawer that she threw away without giving it a second glance, the tab would be open somewhere on her computer.

“Your dad said I could come in,” Marceline finally said after watching Bonnibel for sometime. Bonnibel had almost forgotten about the rest of her room in the midst of overworking herself until she took a glance away from her desk and realised that maybe Marceline would just have to put up with the mess for a little while. She’d de-clutter nearer to the end of the one week school break anyway. “What’s up nerd attack?”

“Nothing much,” Bonnibel lied in hopes of getting rid of the girl as quick as she could. She wasn’t going to have Marceline distract while she did her experiment, nor was she going to let Marceline’s presence stop her. “Just science things. You wouldn’t understand.”  

“Ouch Bonnibel,” Marceline laughed, feigning hurt a little too well. The small smile looked almost sad, but gave her away in her act. “What happened to me being intelligent last week?”

A sigh ripped through Bonnibel involuntarily as she picked out her favourite test tube and tested how the chemical in the tube reacted with the one in the beaker. “If I remember correctly,” She began, scribbling a note down in the margins of a full page. “I said you __can__ be intelligent. As in, you’re not always.” She went to sharpen her pencil, only to remember that it had broke two days ago, and instead rummaged around in her drawers for another. “However, what you choose to be intelligent about is never science because, for some reason, science doesn’t interest you.” Without science, Marceline wouldn’t have her precious music, considering the sounds were all vibrations in the air. She didn’t say this out loud despite how much she wanted to.

Marceline had come up behind her now, somehow unheard by the young scientist, and was blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “Ha, yeah, __unknown__. It’s not like the most boring subject in the world or anything.”

All Bonnibel could do was huff and try the same chemical at a different concentrate, watching the reaction in the beaker bubble and jotting down even more notes in the margins. “If it’s so boring you can leave, I wouldn’t ever want my guests to be bored or anything.”

“I came here with a mission, Bonnie,” The other girl huffed, dragging a hand through her hair as she spared a wry glance at Bonnibel’s crammed notes. “I wanted to know if you’ll rethink about me asking on you that date.”

The lead of the pencil broke. Bonnibel’s page had a rather nice dark mark on the tail end of one of her notes, nearly ruining the start of one of the equations she’d written down days prior. She really wished Marceline hadn’t of said that, had kept her mouth shut or left before she even came in.

“Still dating Braco,” Bonnibel replied lamely, reaching into her drawer for another damn pencil as she tried hard to remember which chemical she had started with.

Just when Bonnibel’s thoughts were getting back on track Marceline’s hand entered her line of sight, resting on the edge of her desk. Bonnibel wanted to slap it away and tell her to leave. “And you’re one hundred percent about that?”

“About Braco and I being in a relationship?” Bonnibel asked ludicrously. “Yes, of course. He propositioned me in the science corridor at school and I accepted his proposal of being his significant other. I don’t know how I couldn’t be one hundred percent about that.” At Marceline’s snort, Bonnibel finally whipped round to meet her eye. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, you sound like you’re going on about another science thing.” There was something unfamiliar about Marceline’s tone that Bonnibel couldn’t quite catch. “Anyway, cool. Good for you I guess, who knew that Bonnibel Butler could get a date? Not me, that’s for damn sure.” And just like that, Marceline had spun gracefully on her heel and left the lab still muttering under her breath.

Bonnibel didn’t totally understand what Marceline had meant about her and Braco’s relationship, but when she turned back to look at her desk there was a mechanical pencil sharpener where Marceline’s hand had been.


	2. When I Was Crying

Marceline’s vision is already blurred by the time she gets to the front door. Despite her best attempts at pushing her emotions down for as long as she could, the feelings of numbness are a little too overwhelming for her to tame on her own. Bonnibel was the only person who could help her settle.

She knocks three times and the door almost immediately opens up for her to be awkwardly scooped into Bonnibel’s arms. She stills wills herself not to sob or cry on her friends shoulder; the embarrassment would would eat at her from the inside, and she’s sure Bonnibel has better things to be doing than looking after an emotional wreck like herself.

“Do you want some tea?” Bonnibel asks instead of a greeting, her voice is calm and soft when she leads Marceline into the living room with an arm around her shoulders. It must’ve been clear that Marceline was upset, or maybe Bonnibel just wanted a cup herself. Marceline nods dumbly in response and allows herself to be seated on the couch, watching as Bonnibel moves the homework she had probably been doing before she arrived.

She leaves the kitchen door open while she boils the kettle.

“Chamomile?” It’s phrased as a question, but Marceline doesn’t even have to respond for Bonnibel to know what she prefers when she’s upset. Chamomile helps calm her, relaxes her enough to lull her into a faux peaceful sleep.

It’s not long before there’s a mug being thrust into Marceline’s hands. It’s warm, but not too hot that she couldn’t take a sip. It was just the way she liked it. Bonnibel had really outdone herself this time.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bonnibel asks when she finally settles down on the couch. She’s a little further away than usual and Marceline kind of wants to lay down and put her head in her lap and just go to sleep. She shakes her head no in response to the question. “That’s okay, I understand. How’s the tea?”

And for some reason, _that_ was the sentence that made Marceline’s shoulders shake. At first she tried to keep Bonnibel from seeing, hunching herself over her mug in an attempt to hyper-focus on the question. The choked sob that came out of her mouth was quickly covered by the palm of her hand.

“Tea’s that bad, huh?” Bonnibel said softly, a joking lilt to her voice that Marceline appreciated. She appreciated the hand that smoothed over the back of her shirt a lot more though, especially when Bonnibel continued talking and she didn’t stop. “Well, because you don’t wanna talk about it I guess I have to break out the embarrassing stories about myself.”

Despite herself, Marceline managed a snort. “I can’t say no to that logic.”

Bonnibel starts to tell her about how when she was nine her only goal in life was to have one hundred percent attendance at school, and how she’s never had a day off since. Marceline wants to call her out for lying, but there’s a part of her that’s even doubting herself; Bonnibel _would_ go into school while ill, Bonnibel _would_ walk to school in the snow, and she definitely hasn’t had a day off the entire time Marceline has known her.

There’s a pause when Bonnibel stops talking, probably thinking about other stories that could help in this situation, and Marceline lets out a heavy sigh. “Dad found out I took music instead of business and we argued for what felt like hours until I left.” She explained, cradling the mug of tea in her palms.

“He wants you to drop it, yeah?” Marceline nods. “Well, screw your dad. You’re doing _amazing_ in music currently and it’s one of your best subjects.”

Marceline sniffles, carefully puts her head on her friends shoulder, and closes her eyes to just _think_ about what she was going to say next. “Could you… could you maybe tutor me in maths?” Wasn’t something she said consciously, but she was glad that her brain was suddenly on autopilot.

“Of course I can, honey.” Bonnibel soothed. “Is there anything else you need help with?”

Marceline has to bite her tongue to stop herself from saying ‘my family life’ and instead shrugs her shoulders, taking a sip of her drink and exhaling softly. “Can I sleep over tonight?” She asks gently into the mug, eyes suddenly getting heavy from the chamomile. “I _really_ don’t want to go back right now,”

The smile on Bonnibel’s face is wide and fuzzy around the edges. “You can stay here whenever you need, Marceline.” Marceline’s name had always sounded funny coming out of Bonnibel’s mouth. It was sweet and soft, and Bonnibel made it sound like everything good in the world.

Marceline just gave her a watery smile back. “Thank you for cheering me up,”


	3. In A Note

Being in the school building after hours was something that Bonnibel had naturally gotten used to; being the student council president she was expected to plan for the next school event, or host _another_ meeting in hopes that the weeks issues get resolved (spoiler: they never do).

It always felt like some sort of odd luxury to be one of the few students that knew what went on after the doors had closed. The after school clubs felt almost like secret gatherings, the detentions like collusive meetings only attended by the people Bonnibel hadn’t seen in lessons for what felt like months, and seeing the janitor do his usually unseen work as if he were santa delivering presents at night. Everything seemed very hush-hush after hours.

There were always a few people who lingered around the corridors, perhaps waiting for a club to start, or for their friend to finish serving their time in detention. Some people were in the study rooms or library, cramming in extra work and finishing homework due the subsequent morning. Bonnibel was usually the last student out the building, save for Thursdays when she didn’t have a meeting with the student council and none of her after school clubs were on.

She was just about getting ready to leave, packing her notepad away into her bag and filing the extra paper back into the correct pigeon hole. It was already nearing 3 o’clock, the usual time for activities and detentions to end, and Bonnibel had an experiment planned for when she got home.

Heaving her bag onto her shoulder she left the empty class room she had promptly used to study in after her meeting with the student council had ended. The hallways were empty as usual as she started in the direction of her locker, save for a few people now exiting the dedicated classrooms of their clubs.

She rounded the corner to where her locker was, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw two students already __at__  her locker. The tallest one she knew to be Marceline, most likely fresh out of the detention the English teacher had given her not three hours ago, but the one beside her wasn’t ringing a bell in Bonnibel’s facial recognition part of her brain.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just approach people like a normal person.” The unknown girl was muttering as Bonnibel dared to near just a little bit closer, watching as Marceline fiddled with something that she couldn’t quite see. “But _no_ , miss awkward just has to mess with the locker of the _president_ of the student council.”

Marceline shoved the other girl and scoffed. “You’re a dick,” She muttered, earning an unseen scowl from Bonnibel. Then, she glanced at the wall of lockers in front of her. “Which one is hers anyway?”

“As if I know, asshole.” More swearing earned an even sourer expression from Bonnibel. “I think Guy said one three seven, but you and I both know he has one braincell.”

Marceline snorted, glanced up at locker one three seven (which, yes, was Bonnibel’s locker) and pushed a piece of paper into the vents on the door. “If Guy isn’t right he’s a dead man,” She growled. “And anyway, it has her name on it. I’m sure people can _read_.”

“I don’t know about that, you got a detention earlier in _English_ , Mar. That’s all about reading.” Marceline shoved her again, a little harsher this time, and laughed despite the half glare she gave the other student.

“Fuck off, Keila. You’re such a dick. My feelings are wounded.” She feigned a hurt expression, touching her hand to her chest, before her face fell neutral. “Well, if I had any feelings I expect that they would be.”

From what little gossip Bonnibel associated herself with, she knew that ‘Keila’ was in the year above Bonnibel, was graduating in a few months, and was overall a seemingly good student. Her attendance was average, as far as Bonnibel had read of her files, and her grades were just a little lower that Marceline’s. She was also Marceline’s self-proclaimed best friend.

“Can we go back to my place and have a jam session or do you have more love letters to drop off?” Keila teased.

Before Bonnibel’s brain could even fathom _why_ Marceline was dispensing love letters into her locker, the taller girl answered. “Not a love letter, Kei. Even if it were, I don’t chase straight girls.” Bonnibel wanted to correct her and tell them that no, she wasn’t straight, but the two girls had already started walking off down the hall in the opposite direction to where Bonnibel was not-so-hidden behind a corner. The last thing she heard was Keila calling Marceline an ‘ass’ before they had turned a corner and left Bonnibel alone to take a few slow strides over to her locker.

Slowly, she opened it and, as expected, the piece of paper that had been tucked in fell onto the floor in a slow glide. She picked it up, noting how it looked a little crumpled and overly fiddled with at the corners, and unfolded it.

 _Bonnie _,__ it started in scribbled handwriting, _we have never once talked positively to each other apart from that one time you defended me over the pineapple on pizza debate last year._ Bonnibel oddly remembers that school wide argument fondly; her friends were all against the idea of sweet and savoury pizza, until she made them try a slice. Marceline had been downright _threatened_ over her stance on the whole ordeal, and Bonnibel had defended her. _Anyway,_ the letter continued, _I’m failing a few of my classes and I know you do tutoring on the weekend for people who need it, Would it be chill if I showed up this week and sat in the corner?_ The letter was signed off with her name and a phone number at the very bottom. For some reason, Bonnibel found it hard to fight the grin on her face when she realised that Marceline hadn’t told Keila about what was in the note. For all she knew, it was some sort of prank or threat. Marceline just wanted Bonnibel to tutor her, alone, because she was… what? Embarrassed about what her friends would say?

Bonnibel tapped in the other girls number and debated whether or not to text her on the way home.

(She did).


	4. When You Were Drunk

Bonnibel barely knew Marshall, so it came as a pleasant surprise when she received an invite to his birthday party via what she presumed was a mass text. She assumed he’d invited everyone in the year, or perhaps his classes, because Bonnibel was sure they’d talked a maximum of three times about the homework in chemistry and that was about the extent of their friendship. Still, as much of a social recluse as Bonnibel was, she couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a social experiment or the possibility of meeting like-minded people.

There were a few people in the front yard when Bonnibel turned up. Two of them she knew to be Keila and Guy, and another person she couldn’t quite make out. Ignoring them, she walked up to the front door and went to knock, only for it to swing open to reveal Marshall on the other side.

“Oh, Bonnibel, you came.” He was a little drunk, evident by the slight slur of his words, and had an unopened beer in each hand. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. The bathroom is upstairs if you end up needing to throw up.”

Bonnibel levelled a stare at Marshall. “I won’t be drinking that much, but thanks.” He gave her a wonky smile and slipped past her, handing the beers to Keila and Guy. Bonnibel took that as an all clear to head inside, surprised to see only a handful of people in the living room. None of them looked up to stare at her, thank god, but she decided against her plan of ‘sit on the couch and wait for someone to start conversation’. She ventured into the kitchen instead, sending a polite smile to the two people holding beers and chatting near the fridge. She took one for herself knowing full well she’d probably have a mouthful and leave it unattended somewhere.

“Marsh! Marsh, get back inside, asshole. It’s your turn to play,” One of the people in the living room shouted. Bonnibel glanced over as to what they were even playing on the TV, shocked to see that Mario Kart was their party game of choice. Princess Peach had already been picked, meaning that Bonnibel would take no part in joining them.

Before the yelling could start once more, Marshall opened the front door yet again. “Shut your mouth, you could’ve started without me,” He threw himself down on the couch and propped his legs up on the coffee table. “C’mon, who stole Bowser?”

Bonnibel decided to take her venture upstairs, curiously pushing open the first door she came to. It was definitely Marshall’s room, if the clothes on the floor were anything to go by. There was a TV unplugged on the floor, tucked away in the corner with a pile of CD’s stacked precariously on top.

The next room was the bathroom, and Bonnibel made a mental note of it being the second door at the top of the stairs. There were still two more rooms to check, one of which was already ajar. From what she could see inside, it was just another bedroom, a queen size bed in the centre of the room and a hell of a lot cleaner than Marshall’s room.

When she went to open the last door, it was swung open for the second time that night. Green eyes peered down at her from the other side of the door, a mane of black hair creating a black silhouette against the TV’s glow in the dark room.

“Oh,” Marceline mumbled. “Marshall didn’t think you’d come.” The words were slurred much like her brothers had been, and her green eyes tiredly took in Bonnibel’s presence. “What’re you doing up here, anyway? Party’s downstairs, Glasses.”

Subconsciously, Bonnibel pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she calculated her response. “I was taking a look around, unfamiliar surroundings make me uneasy and it’s always nice to know where places are.”

Marceline hummed, hand still wrapped around the door handle, and glanced down at the beer in Bonnibel’s hand. “You gonna drink that or can I have it?” The beer was almost immediately thrust between the two, and Marceline smiled lopsidedly. “Come in, you don’t seem the party type.”

The taller woman stepped aside and opened the drink with one hand, something Bonnibel had seen her do at school only a few times. Her room wasn’t as messy as her brother’s, but it definitely wasn’t clean. Instead of being everywhere, her clothes were in a pile on the floor next to her bed, and a rack of instruments that Bonnibel couldn’t make out in the dark was in the corner.

“Why did Marshall not think I’d come? I got an invite.”

The slightly drunk girl shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “Guess neither of us expected you to have any spare time. Plus, this party is lame as fuck.”

Bonnibel found herself settling down on the other girls bed, watching as Marceline collapsed into her desk chair. “I certainly expected a little more from him,” Bonnibel confessed. “But I don’t mind having a little time to socialise.”

Marceline snorted. “Hah, yeah, bet you didn’t think that you’d end up talking to a degenerate like me, though.” And then, a little quieter. “I thought you hated me last year.”

“Why would I hate you?” Bonnibel asked, but even as she said it she remembered exactly how she treated Marceline the previous year. It wasn’t as though it was completely unprovoked, however, but Marceline _had_ apologised for ‘being a wad’ to her friends.

The other girl paused in her swirling around on the chair, eyeing Bonnibel seriously. “Y’know, you’re cute for a nerd.” And Bonnibel _knew_ her face was red.

“What’re you watching?” She asked, gesturing to the TV paused on a show in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “Was I interrupting you?”

“Old anime,” Marceline mumbled, the slur to her words almost cute. “You’re fine, by the way. It’s on netflix.”

“Oh,” Bonnibel glanced down at her lap, suddenly regretting even going to the party in the first place. Marceline stood from her chair and swayed a little on the spot, earning a giggle from Bonnibel when she almost fell over. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Bonnibel warned, watching as the other girl stepped over an extension cable and wires to sit down next to her.

“What kinda stuff are you into, Bonnibel?” Before Bonnibel’s brain could overcomplicate that sentence, Marceline continued. “Other than science and nerd stuff.”

“Damn, my only two hobbies.” Bonnibel elbowed the drunk girl. “I’m not all science equations and straight A’s, you know. I like to do photography, too. And sometimes I binge watch shows until the early hours of the morning. What about you, miss musician?”

“Uh, I guess I’m actually more boring than you.” Marceline huffed, laying back on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t do much other than jam with Kei and watch anime. I guess _I’m_ the loser.”

Bonnibel snorted. “I don’t think that classes you as a loser, Marceline. You’re in a _band_. That’s like… next level cool.”

“Next level, huh?” Bonnibel watched as the other woman pondered what she had said. “Do you need a drive home?”

“From you? No thanks, you’re drunk.”

Marceline pouted, something that oddly made Bonnibel’s heart swoon. “Alright, but text me in the morning because I get lonely on weekends and you’re cute.”

That was the second time Marceline had called her cute in the last five minutes. Bonnibel’s brain had been thoroughly turned into mush. “Yeah, sure. I guess I’ll text you to remind you to get some water and painkillers.”

Marceline gave her a fuzzy little smile and hummed. “Thank you, Bonnie.” _Bonnie_. No one called her that. Sometimes she got ‘Bon’, or even ‘Elle’, but never _Bonnie _.__ Though the nickname was foreign to her it sounded nice coming from Marceline’s mouth.

Bonnibel was definitely going to text her in the morning.


	5. With Too Many Miles Between us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ngl i cried while writing this!! im sad!!! this is sad!!!!

Her phone was ringing. That damn pop song Bonnibel had chosen for her ringtone filtered out through the crappy speaker, reminding Marceline once again that she’d need to change it before someone wrongly judged her taste in music. She debated on picking up. It was midnight; she had a lecture in several hours, she was supposed to be in bed.

The cold metal in her hand made her flinch and a sigh ripped through the middle of the all too cheerful chorus. She slid her thumb across the screen to answer.

“It’s late.” She huffed out, gaze drifting to the mirror on the back of the door, squinting at her bedhead in the dark.

From the other end of the call, Bonnibel tutted. “You told me to call you.”

“Yeah,” Marceline rolled her eyes, dropping her gaze to her lap as her body grew heavy with sleep. She should’ve just let it ring out. Gone back to sleep. “Every day. You’re two weeks late.” She tried her best to hide the bitterness in her voice, but she knew it was just sharp enough to make Bonnibel feel bad.

“I know and I’m sorry,” Was the fast response, probably thought out and manufactured in that big brain of hers with the sole purpose of making Marceline happy; Bonnie wouldn’t let herself believe that she was the one at fault. “I’ve just been settling down, making friends, y’know? How’ve you been, anyway? How’s Keila?”

Marceline smirked at nothing in particular. The resentment in her chest burbled higher, catching the bottom of her throat with heat. She willed herself not to breakdown in tears over the phone to Bonnibel of all people. No matter how much it hurt that her friend was quick to change the topic, making up lame excuses as to why she hadn’t bothered to get in touch. “I’m good. Keila’s great,” She mumbled. “Hasn’t left me to go to another country so that’s just grand, really.”

There was a sigh from the speaker. “Marceline-,” But Bonnibel cut herself off. There’d be no _actual_ apologies tonight. No sir, not from Bonnibel Banner. “I thought you were happy for me,” Was put in place of an ‘I’m sorry’. Marceline thought it was a pretty crappy substitute coming from Bonnie. “At least, that’s what you said when I told you about this opportunity.”

Scowling at nothing in particular didn’t make Marceline feel any better, but god it was nice to imagine that the pile of clothes in the corner of her room was Bonnibel. “That’s what friends do right?” Marceline grumbled out, balling her pyjama pants up into her fists. “And anyway, I guess that makes us both liars. How’s England?”

The meticulously mentally counted twenty four second pause that followed her question was filled by a stray tear falling down her cheek, searing and traitorous and wiped away harshly with the rough fabric of the sleeve of her shirt. She was still staring thunderously at the pile of laundry, still held her phone in a white knuckled grip, still went back to grasping at her pant leg with al her might.

“It’s nice,” Bonnibel hummed, almost pretending as if half a minute hadn’t gone by without a single word uttered. “London is about as hectic as you’d think.” And she accompanied her words with a chuckle. “I’ve made a couple of really nice friends though. They work in the same lab as me.”

She wasn’t jealous, Marceline knew Bonnibel would make friends out there with ease, but the sudden lump in her throat was hard to swallow without tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Cool,” She drawled out half heartedly, finally releasing the cloth from her fist and smoothing out the now bunched up fabric with a sweaty palm. “Can I hang up now?”

“No,” Bonnibel exclaimed, almost making Marceline jump. “Uh, no, please? I wanted to talk to you.”

“And we’ve talked. It’s midnight.” She repeated, glancing at her alarm clock that now read _00:05_ in big bold lettering.

“Do… Are you doing well in your lectures?”

“What do you think?” Marceline shot back.

Bonnibel exhaled. “Okay, I get it, you’re mad that I left and-,”

“Don’t try pinning this on me.” Came out in an unexpected growl. Marceline was split between being surprised at her tone or the tears now falling onto the back of her hand. “You’re the one that didn’t call, do _not_ blame me for this dumb fucking conversation.”

There was another dejected sigh that crackled into her otherwise silent room and Marceline almost went to hang up the phone call before Bonnibel spoke again. “I was debating not doing this trip. I was excited for the doors that it could open, sure, but I didn’t want to leave my friends and family. And then I told you I had this opportunity and you just smiled and said that it’d be amazing for me. So of course I went through with it.” Bonnibel sniffled, and then they were both silently crying and hoping that the other wouldn’t hear. “Of course I held your opinion higher than my own. I didn’t want to leave you until I knew you’d be one hundred percent about it. I… I __knew__ it’d mess this up.”

“Don’t blame me,” Marceline hissed a third time, opening her mouth to say something else but struggling to get any more words out from her now strangled throat.

“I’m blaming _me_.” Bonnibel sobbed into the phone. “I’m blaming the fact that I’ve had a huge fucking crush on you for five years and that I valued your opinion so much and that I asked you if I should go and that I believed you when you said you were going to be okay without me and-,”

Bonnibel’s voice cut off. Marceline let her arm drop to her side, glancing at the now black phone screen in her hand. What would Bonnibel say if she knew she hadn’t charged her phone before going to bed? Probably something berating, asking her what she would do if she was in an emergency and her phone was dead. Probably tell her that she was fed up of reminding her.

Numbly, Marceline fumbled about in the dark, hand hitting the top of her bedside table, skirting over the alarm clock, finding a wire, following it to end. She plugged her phone in with a rugged inhale before putting it face down on the wooden surface and flopping backwards onto her bed, letting the tears fall freely down her temples.

The morning would come and she’d attend her lecture as normal, leaving her phone beside her bed. Maybe… maybe she’d sit outside with her laptop while the other students ate lunch. Maybe she’d buy one way ticket to another country she’d never been to before.

For now she could cry herself to sleep. The maybe’s could come later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KoFi: https://ko-fi.com/Y8Y8P2NP  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/necromarcy


End file.
